“Man can never know the loneliness a woman knows. Man lies in the woman’s womb only to gather strength, he nourishes himself from this fusion, and then he rises and goes into the world, into his work, into battle, into art. He is not lonely. He is busy. The memory of the swim in amniotic fluid gives him energy, completion. Woman may be busy too, but she feels empty. Sensuality for her is not only a wave of pleasure in which she is bathed, and a charge of electric joy at contact with another. When man lies in her womb, she is fulfilled, each act of love a taking of man within her, an act of birth and rebirth, of child rearing and man bearing. Man lies in her womb and is reborn each time anew with a desire to act, to be. But for woman, the climax is not in the birth, but in the moment man rests inside of her.”
― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
Tag: never
I was never insane …
I was never insane.
Except upon occasions when my heart was touched.
– Edgar Allan Poe
The kind of kiss …
It was the kind of kiss that made
me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.
– Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
A love like that was a serious illness …
A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.
– Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
You never really hate anyone …
You never really hate anyone as much as someone you cared about once.
– Cassandra Clare, City of Glass
Why do beautiful songs make you sad …
‘Why do beautiful songs make you sad?’
‘Because they aren’t true.’
‘Never?’
‘Nothing is beautiful and true.’
– Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Between two evils …
Between two evils,
I always pick the one
I never tried before.
– May West
Art never comes from happiness
Art never comes from happiness.
– unknown
London
The weaping city.
So much energy.
So much life.
So much in a rush.
A city that never sleeps.
The city that cries.
The melody
The silent flow.
Those subtle movements of my fingers.
Almost in a rhythm.
This is when I am writing.
My fingers rush over the keyword.
Forming letters into words.
Arranging words to sentences.
Harmony in itself.
I can nearly hear the melody in my head.
Played by my fingers, whilst floating over the letters.
When I then close my eyes.
This melody goes on.
As my fingers don’t stop moving.
Faster, more energetic.
Freezing in a moment of silent thought.
Unrecognisable when the melody started.
But never to stop again.
– sanados
Itchy feet
Such beautiful words as well as the feeling it carries on its wings.
The hurt, the sadness is but a sweet one!
Tells us about the true longing, the simple reason of life!
To move, never stop, forever go on.
Not to find anything in particular, just to find.
For me there is no home and i am scared of finding it.
Home
finding it means leaving.
As for wandering
never look back.
Behind you just lays what you have seen already and from what you moved on.
– sanados
I have often …
I have often regretted my speech, never my silence.
– Xenocrates